


Zombies Don't Kill People

by Amielleon



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Gen, PTA Meeting AU, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amielleon/pseuds/Amielleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombie apocalypse PTA meeting AU. Because harblkun asked me to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombies Don't Kill People

**Author's Note:**

> Unrepentant silliness vaguely inspired by [this post](http://harblkun.tumblr.com/post/117554749101/i-like-pairing-frederick-and-cherche-together-and), but mostly just unrepentant silliness. (Be forewarned, written at top speed in an hour and a half and it shows.)

The microphone screeched under Frederick's uncompromising fingers as he adjusted the angle until it was just perfect—he would not have his words make little thumps every time a puff of air escaped his mouth. No, nothing would ruin his meticulously prepared speech. He had been entrusted with news of the utmost importance, tasked to deliver it before the good people of his community.

Clearing his throat (this, too, was planned) he leaned just slightly forward to capture the attention of his audience in folding chairs, and said, “If I may have your attention—”

“OH MY GODS!” screamed a voice as the doors in the back burst open.

Frederick was, in a manner of speaking, mildly put out by this interruption.

With dress forever inappropriate for the occasion, Nowi ran down the aisles screaming, “Guys! We have to do something! There are ZOMBIES outside!”

A murmur passed through the crowd. 

Frederick, with a world-weary sigh (off-mic), brought himself to the mic again and said (with only the faintest hint of exasperation), “Yes, as I intended to announce at this meeting, I have reports that a single Risen has been spotted in—”

There. Look. The audience had broken into chaotic conversation amongst themselves and they weren't going to listen to him. He _knew_ this would happen if the situation weren't handled delicately. He looked to his wife, who only gave a cold smile that said that she didn't know how Nowi had found out where and when they were having the PTA meeting either, but someone probably had adulterated cupcakes in their future.

“Please,” Frederick tried again, “the CDC has confirmed that this is not a 'zombie virus.' There have been absolutely no cases of transmission and—”

“Hey guys, anyone need a gun?” a chipper and tone-deaf voice said in the audience. It appeared that Henry did, in fact, have multiple firearms on his person. How he smuggled any of them past the metal detectors was a complete mystery to Frederick but perhaps if he—“Oooh, I have grenades too! Be careful with those, though, don't want to blow us all up, nya ha ha.”

“Give me one,” Tharja said with a dark smile. “I'm a professional.”

Oh gods.

If Frederick were to be honest with himself, the revelation that his community was filled with hitwomen and arms dealers was a great deal more disturbing than the idea that corpses might have been gnawing on tires out in the fields of Ylisse. 

He caught sight of one of the redheaded fathers making himself busy in the back by the refreshments, gathering up all the platters of brownies and cookies and magazine easy-to-bake novelties into one Tupperware container. In that instant he greatly envied that man. If only he could be so carefree as to take what he wanted and leave.

Just as quickly he berated himself. He was sworn to his duty. And he would not let this PTA meeting be dismissed before he could be certain that their children were safe from harm.

“Gregor know his rifles! Once in the old war, Gregor shot three bad guys from five-hundred meter!”

“Scientifically speaking, it would be dangerous to cause their fluids to spatter before we have confirmed that direct contact with spinal fluids would not transmit—”

“Oh Father in heaven, that we should live to see the end of days—”

“Hey! Maggots!” barked a voice from the back. Frederick visibly flinched at the sight of the former Lieutenant he knew so well. She, at least, had some sense of discipline, but she also tended to have a mind of her own. And if he knew her at all, he knew that she was about to propose the last course of action that he wanted them to take. “Listen up. If we're going to fight, we need to know their position and their numbers. If you go shooting everywhere without any intel, you're going to end up with a lot of wasted ammo and a couple of holes in your buddy's leg. And we don't want that! DO WE!”

There was an ominous silence in place of a cheer. In the back, the redhead edged ever closer to the door—only for a stoic Chon'sinese father to grab him by the collar and deadpan, “I believe we have a volunteer for reconnaissance.”

“That is completely unnecessary,” objected Cordelia from her place in the front row. Frederick felt sorry for her. She had taken time out of her busy schedule as a representative of their district to play a more active role in her child's education, and this was what she was being forced to waste her time on instead. “There are already police helicopters scanning the area. We don't need to put any civilians in danger.”

—But Frederick's entire stance had been that this whole affair was _not_ that dangerous—or, well, yes, it was dangerous but he didn't want them to panic, and hearing the word “danger” from their polished local politician only sent the crowd into another buzz.

“Dear,” his lovely wonderfully placid wife murmured into his ear, “I believe our time might be better spent minding the porch door.”

“...The one with the latch that won't work,” he asked like a cold, dreadful realization.

“Yes, darling,” she said with a smile. “That one.”

“You go on ahead,” he said. “I have a duty here, entrusted to me by the school administrator himself. I will not leave before I see it through.”

“Then I shall stay as well. Gerome and Minerva are safely abroad, after all. You need me more here.”

Gods, his wife was wonderful. No doubt he would need all the moral support he could get.

“Wait!” cried a familiar soccer mom voice from the back. “We should go home right away. I left my kids with a sitter—”

“Aw, crap! So did I!”

Meanwhile, the local noblewoman sniffed at them as she patted her first grader on the back, clearly judging them for not reading the news. Her friend, the attachment parenting mom, let her boy bury his face against her side, shielding his delicate head with her shawl.

“Our time is wasted here,” agreed the lone Native Ylissean. “We should go.”

At least they had all gotten the message, a rather wounded Frederick thought to himself. Everyone except their perpetual no-show, but he was certain Miriel was responsible enough to take care of their family.

The local nobleman (no relation to the local noblewoman) took it upon himself to come to the stage, taking Frederick's perfectly angled microphone out of its stand to announce, “It would appear that the general consensus is that we should make for our homes posthaste and watch over our children. Before we do, I would like to mention that it is our responsibility as good citizens of Ylisse to make our preparations in a civil manner. Our good men in law enforcement will be busy warding off these assailants for our safety, so each and every one of us must respect the needs of others as we seek to secure our allotment of food and supplies—”

“Last one to seven-eleven is a rotten egg!!”

Really, Frederick had no idea how some of these people were parents. He watched half the auditorium file out the back doors, firearms in tow, wondering if his city would soon be looted to the ground. At least, he thought, Administrator Chrom was away petitioning at the capital for public school funding and would be spared the sight of the educational system he loved so much being destroyed overnight by the insensibility lurking beneath each and every one of their students' parents.

Truly, he reflected, it was not the zombies who were their enemies, but the heart of mankind.

“We should go,” he said solemnly to his wife. They linked elbows, like dignified people stepping down from a dignified makeshift stage in a world gone mad.

Someone fell out of thin air into the center of the auditorium. Masked and armed with what looked like a laser gun, they clambored to their feet and looked about as the remaining parents gawked.

“I come bearing a message from the future!” they shouted.

“We're going home, dear,” Cherche whispered, and Frederick let her drag him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, check out harblkun's [cool illustrations](http://amielleon.tumblr.com/post/117620148768/harblkun-thanks-again-to-amielleon-for-making) of this fic!


End file.
